Munfords wit’ yo’ uppity ass,” Tarabelle lashed out at me. “I do mo’ ’round here than anybody, now I gotta do even mo’. It ain’t fair.”
In my opinion, Tarabelle did less than anybody in the house. She did not go to work or to school. She did not watch over Laura and Edna. She did not scrub the outhouse, dump the night bucket, lug the water bucket, chop wood, haul in coal or kindling, sweep or mop the floors, wash dishes, cook meals, clean the ice box, nor run errands. She helped wash clothes on Saturdays, and as far as I was concerned, that was all she did.
I expected Miss Pearl to remind her of that, but Miss Pearl sat on the arm of Tarabelle’s chair, gave my sister a hug, and said, “It’s awright, chil’. Thangs got a way of working out. C’mon now, let’s go check on yo’ mama.”
Okay. So maybe now Tarabelle could add delivering babies to her list of chores which consisted of washing clothes, hanging clothes, and letting the air take care of drying.
Thus far, Miss Pearl had done all of the delivering in our house. From Mushy to Edna, she had delivered all of Mama’s babies, and had a long tale to tell about each birth. I had grown bored over the years of hearing how my mother did not trust the midwife or the hospital, and of how young and scared Miss Pearl had been when she had delivered Mushy.
The springs in the seat of my chair cut into my bottom, but I did not want to move. I was angry, hurt, and scared. I lowered my head to the armrest and stared at Wallace, who stared back at me. Martha Jean stood and began shifting coals in the stove with the poker.
That was the way Harvey and Sam found us when they returned with the midwife, Miss Zadie. She was indeed shriveled. She was a high-yellow colored woman who wore thick-lensed, brown-frame glasses. Her back was stooped to an angle so that she appeared to be searching for something on the floor, and when she held her head up, she resembled a turkey in the act of gobbling. Her bottom lip was unmistakably packed with snuff.
Miss Pearl stepped out into the hallway, greeted the old woman, then rushed her into Mama’s room. I turned my attention back to the curtain. For the longest time there were only whispers and flickering light, but then Miss Pearl’s huge frame formed a silhouette against the sheet. She pushed the sheet aside.
“Go get Frank!” she ordered. “Right now! Tell him to get the car out here as fast as he can.”
“Mr. Grodin’s out front in his car,” Harvey said. “He brought us back wit’ Miss Zadie.”
Miss Pearl nodded her head impatiently. “I know,” she said, “but he won’t take yo’ mama nowhere in his car. Go on and get Frank like I tol’ you.”
“Look here, Miss Pearl,” Sam said. “I wanna know what’s going on in there.”
“She bleeding awful bad, and we ain’t got no choice but to take her to the hospital. I think she done lost that chil’, and if you boys don’t get a move on, we might lose yo’ mama, too.”
“Mr. Grodin can take her,” Sam insisted.
“Yeah,” Harvey agreed. “Tan, you go on out there and tell Mr. Grodin we coming out wit’ Mama.”
As Harvey and Sam stormed past Miss Pearl and into Mama’s room, I stayed in my sanctuary. I felt warm and secure in the chair, and I had no idea what the darkness outside held. What type of man would refuse to take a dying woman to the hospital? I did not know, but I was not going out alone to face him. Nothing made any sense. Mr. Grodin had brought his wife to our house to attend to Mama. Surely, that showed he was a kind and neighborly man. “You going, Tan? ”Wallace asked. “If you ain’t, I’m going.”
“No, Wallace, don’t!” I said quickly. “If you warn him, he might drive off.”
“He ain’t gon’ leave his wife.”
“He might,” I said. “You don’t know.”
Wallace thought about that for a second, then he snatched up the flashlight from the round table where Harvey had placed it, and started
In my opinion, Tarabelle did less than anybody in the house. She did not go to work or to school. She did not watch over Laura and Edna. She did not scrub the outhouse, dump the night bucket, lug the water bucket, chop wood, haul in coal or kindling, sweep or mop the floors, wash dishes, cook meals, clean the ice box, nor run errands. She helped wash clothes on Saturdays, and as far as I was concerned, that was all she did.
I expected Miss Pearl to remind her of that, but Miss Pearl sat on the arm of Tarabelle’s chair, gave my sister a hug, and said, “It’s awright, chil’. Thangs got a way of working out. C’mon now, let’s go check on yo’ mama.”
Okay. So maybe now Tarabelle could add delivering babies to her list of chores which consisted of washing clothes, hanging clothes, and letting the air take care of drying.
Thus far, Miss Pearl had done all of the delivering in our house. From Mushy to Edna, she had delivered all of Mama’s babies, and had a long tale to tell about each birth. I had grown bored over the years of hearing how my mother did not trust the midwife or the hospital, and of how young and scared Miss Pearl had been when she had delivered Mushy.
The springs in the seat of my chair cut into my bottom, but I did not want to move. I was angry, hurt, and scared. I lowered my head to the armrest and stared at Wallace, who stared back at me. Martha Jean stood and began shifting coals in the stove with the poker.
That was the way Harvey and Sam found us when they returned with the midwife, Miss Zadie. She was indeed shriveled. She was a high-yellow colored woman who wore thick-lensed, brown-frame glasses. Her back was stooped to an angle so that she appeared to be searching for something on the floor, and when she held her head up, she resembled a turkey in the act of gobbling. Her bottom lip was unmistakably packed with snuff.
Miss Pearl stepped out into the hallway, greeted the old woman, then rushed her into Mama’s room. I turned my attention back to the curtain. For the longest time there were only whispers and flickering light, but then Miss Pearl’s huge frame formed a silhouette against the sheet. She pushed the sheet aside.
“Go get Frank!” she ordered. “Right now! Tell him to get the car out here as fast as he can.”
“Mr. Grodin’s out front in his car,” Harvey said. “He brought us back wit’ Miss Zadie.”
Miss Pearl nodded her head impatiently. “I know,” she said, “but he won’t take yo’ mama nowhere in his car. Go on and get Frank like I tol’ you.”
“Look here, Miss Pearl,” Sam said. “I wanna know what’s going on in there.”
“She bleeding awful bad, and we ain’t got no choice but to take her to the hospital. I think she done lost that chil’, and if you boys don’t get a move on, we might lose yo’ mama, too.”
“Mr. Grodin can take her,” Sam insisted.
“Yeah,” Harvey agreed. “Tan, you go on out there and tell Mr. Grodin we coming out wit’ Mama.”
As Harvey and Sam stormed past Miss Pearl and into Mama’s room, I stayed in my sanctuary. I felt warm and secure in the chair, and I had no idea what the darkness outside held. What type of man would refuse to take a dying woman to the hospital? I did not know, but I was not going out alone to face him. Nothing made any sense. Mr. Grodin had brought his wife to our house to attend to Mama. Surely, that showed he was a kind and neighborly man. “You going, Tan? ”Wallace asked. “If you ain’t, I’m going.”
“No, Wallace, don’t!” I said quickly. “If you warn him, he might drive off.”
“He ain’t gon’ leave his wife.”
“He might,” I said. “You don’t know.”
Wallace thought about that for a second, then he snatched up the flashlight from the round table where Harvey had placed it, and started
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